


The Hat Trick

by Miss_M



Category: Howl no Ugoku Shiro | Howl's Moving Castle
Genre: Bad Weather, Established Relationship, F/M, Hats, Post-Canon, Spells & Enchantments, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: Howl messes up. Sophie’s millinery skills come to the rescue.





	The Hat Trick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_peony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_peony/gifts).



> I own nothing.

The Great Kingsbury Fair took place only once every six years. Every artisan in Ingary worked for at least half as many years to prepare the finest wares that could be displayed in the most ornate booths and fetch the best price. 

The Great Fair meant also that the volume and intensity of Markl and Calcifer’s begging to be allowed to go was at least six times what it would have been for an ordinary country fair, with jugglers who could keep only three balls in the air and gingerbread hearts for sale. After a week of wheedling over breakfast and tantrums over supper – and no one, not even Howl, could match a little boy and a fire demon in tantrum pitching – Howl relented and gave his apprentice and his demon friend the day off. He even forewent his customary morning bath so that Calcifer could go to the fair early, and he agreed to help Sophie attend to her stall, where she intended to sell the hats she had made, to keep her hand in, as she liked to put it. She’d even entered the Millinery Competition after much encouragement from Howl and Markl. 

Howl _even_ decorated Sophie’s stall, after assessing her paper streamers and plain glow globes as unsatisfying. By the time he was finished, Sophie’s stall had multicolored lights that floated like fireflies around her customers, _Sophie’s Magnificent Hats_ spelled out in iridescent bubbles, and the blank-faced wooden dummy heads on which the hats were displayed had been replaced by rosy-cheeked, porcelain heads which smiled and fluttered their eyelashes prettily. 

“My stall is a three-ring circus,” Sophie muttered. “With beautiful dummies’ disembodied heads instead of performing animals.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Howl exclaimed and flung his arms out, just like a circus master. “People will come for _my_ stall, but they will linger for _your_ hats.”

He always went too far, but he also always meant well. Feeling mollified, Sophie kissed him as a thank-you. 

When the weather turned, as suddenly as someone snapping a dusty rug out of their window, Sophie glanced out the Southaven door and saw to her amazement – for even as a wizard’s wife, she retained her capacity for amazement – that it was raining dogs. 

Puppies plummeted from an iron sky, bouncing off shop awnings, rolling down the cobblestoned streets, and piling up in the gutters, all paws and ears and soft yipping.

Sophie shut the door, turned the crank to Porthaven, and opened it again.

In Porthaven, it was raining cats. They clung to windowsills with their claws, perched on gutters, and rode on top of people’s open umbrellas with offended expressions on their tabby and marmalade snouts.

“Howl, have you seen this?” Sophie cried out as she turned the crank again. “It’s raining real cats and dogs!”

In the Waste, it was frogs. Fat green toads, tiny jewel-colored poisonous frogs, and big bullfrogs with bulbous, scarlet throats covered the hillsides as far as the eye could see, a rolling ocean of amphibians. 

Sophie shook her head in wonder and shut the door, wondering what was raining in Kingsbury. 

She reached for the crank and stopped. Howl was suspiciously quiet. He hadn’t even commented on the literal-mindedness of whatever spell was affecting the weather. 

Sophie glanced behind her and saw Howl failing to blend in with the furniture. He avoided her eye and fidgeted with his rings. 

“Howl,” Sophie said. “What have you done?”

“How cruel you are,” Howl exclaimed, but he still wouldn’t look her in the eye. “What makes you think I have anything to do with this?”

“I know you. You would show more curiosity about the weather if you hadn’t caused it. What am I going to find in Kingsbury, Howl?”

“Sophie, don’t…”

But she had turned back to the crank and opened the door. 

She couldn’t see Kingsbury. Hailstones as large as quail eggs fell in a thick sheet, obscuring her view of the streets, and an icy wind plucked cruelly at Sophie’s skirts. The wind changed direction and carried the hail diagonally, so it pelted Sophie like she was being kicked by schoolchildren. 

She cried out and wrestled with the door, but couldn’t close it. 

Howl appeared beside her, his warmth all along Sophie’s side and his cape brushing her cheek as he reached past her and pushed the door shut. 

Just before it closed, they both heard a crash as some nobleman’s palace collapsed under the wind and the hail. 

Sophie leaned against Howl as she caught her breath. He folded his arms around her, and for a moment she told herself the weather demolishing Kingsbury didn’t matter.

“Howl, tell me what this is,” she murmured into Howl’s chest.

“First come the animals, then the weather turns really bad.” Howl stroked her hair. “It’s almost long enough to braid again.” His tone didn’t change. Sophie let him caress her and waited for him to finish. After three strokes from the crown of her head to the vulnerable spot between her shoulder blades, he did: “I only meant to see what would happen if I took it.”

“Took what?”

“The Golden Weathercock, of course,” he said like it was obvious. “The finest good-weather spell in existence. It’s been in the royal family for centuries, but they’ve barely used it for as long as I’ve been a wizard. They prefer to let the weather take care of itself. So I… borrowed it.”

Sophie pulled back, so she could look up at his face. “Didn’t you know this might happen?”

Howl smiled, but he didn’t look very proud of himself. “I couldn’t be certain, and I was curious.”

Not selfishness, but curiosity always had been his demon.

Sophie stepped out of the circle of Howl’s arms and placed her hands on her hips, to fortify her against his sad eyes. “Well now you know, so you can give it back. Where is it, anyway?”

Howl reached inside his cape and produced a shiny yellow bird about half a foot in length, with an open beak and outstretched wings like a crowing rooster’s. Sophie thought the spell didn’t look happy about finding itself in Howl’s possession, and serve Howl right. 

“Oh,” Sophie said. “It looks a bit like something I would use to trim a hat.” 

Howl made a small gesture, and the Golden Weathercock vanished back inside his cape. He seized Sophie by the arms and landed a loud smack on her lips. 

“Sophie, you’re brilliant! That’s how we’ll give it back!”

“We will?” she asked, wondering if the situation was too dire to indulge in a bit more kissing before they returned to the matter at hand. 

“Yes, you see, the Golden Weathercock cannot simply be given back once removed. The king has to accept it of his own free will. The king is due to hand out the trophy in the Millinery Competition, and the winning hat becomes a part of the royal collection. It’s perfect!” 

Sophie harbored lingering misgivings in the face of Howl’s enthusiasm, but she let Howl steer her toward her sewing bench, where she set about altering what she considered to be the finest had she’d made for the fair. She removed the purple flowers, added some more pheasant feathers, replaced the orange ribbon with a golden one, and finally sewed the Golden Weathercock to the crown of the hat, so it would perch jauntily over the left eye of the hat’s wearer.

Sophie remained skeptical as she examined herself in the mirror with the hat resting atop her grey hair. 

Howl reached over from behind her and adjusted the hat by a rakish fraction of an inch. “Now remember, Sophie: all you need to wear anything, be it ribbons and bows, or diamond buckles, or an extremely ornate hat...” 

The castle swayed under an especially strong gust of hail-bearing wind. Howl swayed on his feet, then leaned nonchalantly on the back of a chair, while Sophie held on to the hat lest it fell off and got spoiled. 

“As I was saying, the only thing you need to wear absolutely anything is abundant good looks.”

Sophie turned away from the mirror and looked at him, arching her eyebrows as high as they would go. 

“And confidence!” Howl added, smiling broadly. “With it, you can pull off any look. And if you’re not sure where you left your confidence, just smile broadly and walk with purpose.” 

Sophie shook her head. The hat moved like a ship on swelling seas on top of it. “If it were that easy…” she murmured. 

Howl put a finger under her chin. “It works for me, darling. Even I have my off days.”

Sophie watched him smiling at her. She knew this was the closest he could come to admitting this mess was all his fault. 

“I think you should wear the hat in the competition,” she said. 

Howl’s face fell. “I’d have to face the king.” 

“Oh Howl. You wear so much jewelry, and capes, and sometimes even bells on your boots, you can wear a hat like this. You clean the bathroom now…”

“Only because you refuse to stop rearranging things in it!” Howl interrupted.

Sophie didn’t pause. “… and you even do laundry. _You_ stole the Weathercock…”

“Borrowed it, thank you. I always intended to give it back.” 

“… and so _you_ may be the one to return it,” Sophie finished, like she was making Howl a tempting offer. Then she lifted the hat off her head and perched it on his. 

The hat worked its magic on Howl. He stood up straight, puffed out his chest, and struck a pose befitting a man with a big hat. He looked like good weather personified. 

Sophie kissed him for good luck and handed him the largest umbrella in the castle. 

“I doubt bad weather would disrupt the Great Fair,” she said, “but you’d better take care of that hat. If you don’t win the competition, you’ll have to beg the king to forgive you and take the spell back.”

“Oh Sophie,” Howl replied as he reopened the Kingsbury door to howling hail, unfurled the umbrella, and ducked to let the hat pass safely under the lintel. “I may trifle with powerful spells from time to time, but I will guard anything your hands have touched with my life. Including, of course, my heart, my head, and all of me.”

And with a wink, he shut the door and left Sophie to blush without witnesses.


End file.
